


218 Days

by abcdefuk_off



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26951893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcdefuk_off/pseuds/abcdefuk_off
Summary: Sam has been taken; leaving Dean and John to attempt a rescue mission lead by sheer desperation. But will it all be for nothing? And if they do find him and get him home, will Sammy ever be the same again?
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	218 Days

Note: lol okay, don't hate me. I know it's been like forever. This fic is based off a prompt as well as an amazing work of fanart - which I will link if I get permission from the artist. This is the last prompt for my fic raffle that I have yet to fill. It is going to be at least 3 chapters because you can't send me a prompt about Sam being taken and expect it to be a oneshot.

* * *

218 days. 

That was how long John’s face had been lined with stress. 

That was how long Dean had been losing his fucking mind. 

218 days was how long it had been since Sam disappeared. 

Since he had been taken, because even though it took Dean 79 days to convince John of that fact, the seasoned hunter had _finally_ let go of the theory that the youngest Winchester had simply run off on his own. Dean knew from the beginning, because though Sam did have a tendency to chase after the ‘normal’ life he so desperately desired, he would have left Dean a note. Because things were different now. 

The two had been working together for nearly a year – Sam was no longer a tag-along kid being forced into a life he didn’t choose. He chose to return to hunting after what happened to Jessica. He chose to be there with Dean. He was no longer treated as a child and constantly dismissed and disregarded. Dean valued the younger man’s opinion and they made decisions together. 

Things were different now. 

Sam wasn’t just a child that Dean looked after – though there would never come a day where he didn’t look out for his little brother – he was someone the older hunter depended on. 

They were a fucking team. 

And Dean knew with absolute certainty that Sam would not vanish for so long without checking in with his big brother. Hell, he’d hardly been able to shake the kid after his little taser fiasco. Sam had been frustrated when they’d finally found their father, only to be forced to separate shortly after, but he’d stayed at Dean’s six. He watched his big brother’s back. 

Until he’d been taken. 

Taken because he hadn’t left, but he was still fucking alive. 

On day 185 after countless dead-ends, mounting frustration, explosive desperation, and way too much alcohol, John had mentioned the idea that maybe they needed to be looking for a body. Dean’s fist struck the scruffy chin before he had even commanded it to do so – it was simply his body’s visceral reaction to having to process such an egregious suggestion. 

They hadn’t spoken again until day 217, when John came bursting through Dean’s motel room door at four in the fucking morning, declaring he had a lead. 

“There’s a zoo.” 

“A zoo?” Dean croaked out, his mind was instantly alert, but his severely sleep-deprived body was still waking up. 

John nodded distractedly as he spread a map out on top of the kitchen table. He muttered to himself as his fingers trailed across the wrinkled paper, clearly tracking down coordinates. 

“What does a zoo have to do with anything? How the fuck is this a lead?” Dean snapped. His hopes had soared when he had heard the word ‘lead’, but there was no sign of his kid brother on John’s beer-stained map or in his mumbled rambling. 

His questioned went unanswered as his father proceeded to squint at his phone screen and then back at the map, muttering to himself the entire time. Dean frowned, taking in the older man’s appearance in a way he hadn’t since…well since Sammy went missing and Dean’s vision had tunneled. John was...unkept to say the least, though Dean could hardly judge because he couldn’t recall the last time he had showered or changed, or participated in any degree of basic hygiene. Both men were wearing clothes that had looked like they had been slept in more than a few nights. Both had hair that had grown well past their preferred lengths, and ungroomed facial hair. But only one of the reeked of alcohol.

Dean frowned, beginning to believe that his father was not sober enough to have even found a lead, let along articulate it. 

“John!” Dean snapped, his voice harsh and cold, because that’s who he was without his little brother. Sammy brought out the gentler side of Dean. Those puppy dog eyes and that endlessly bleeding heart softened all the hard edges the older boy had developed at an impossibly young age. The kind of edges that only appear after something had been fractured; and that’s what his mother’s death had done to Dean, it had fractured him, leaving him with jagged shards that were sharp enough to cut. But having to step up and raise a kid as sensitive as Sammy, it softened Dean in a way he never understood until his whole world had gone off to school in California. He had nearly forgotten the effect his kid had on him until they were reunited, until after Jessica, when a harsh cold hunter was left to care for a shattered, grief-stricken little brother. Dean had finally remembered how to be gentle again, how to soften those life-weary edges. And then, just like that, Sam was gone again and Dean hadn’t realized how cold he was becoming until he was frigid from the inside-out. 

However, returning to the role as hardened hunter was not without its benefits. 

The eldest Winchester’s head popped up, eyes wide (if not a bit bloodshot) and at attention. 

“Tell me you have something real. Tell me you have something about Sam. Because I swear if this is just some drunken ramble—

Dean didn’t have time to finish his threat, but his dark tone alone promised pain. 

No one was safe from the broken man’s fury anymore, not even his own father. 

“It’s real. Dean. It’s real. I found him.” John stated, the proclamation containing the clarity his eyes were missing

Dean felt his heart thudding violently inside of his chest, but he refused to allow himself to believe, not until he had evidence or a sign of _something_ more tangible than the declarations of someone with a higher blood-alcohol level than a jock at a frat party. The only thing that hurt more than not being able to find his kid brother, was the number of times he felt he had been so close, only to come up empty once again. It was killing him and Dean couldn’t take it again. 

“He’s at a zoo?”

“Yes.” John confirmed, head bobbing rapidly as he turned back to the map. 

“Why the fuck would he be at a zoo?” 

“That’s where they’re keeping him.” John growled in response. 

“Who? Where who is keeping him?” Dean snapped, hunching over the map with his father, watching the man’s searching fingers, eagerly waiting for them to land somewhere. 

“Still working on that.” 

Dean scowled, other than Sam’s location, whoever took him was the most important piece of this fucked-up puzzle. 

“They have him at a zoo? For what? Slave labour?” Dean remarked incredulously. 

John paused at that, his movements stilling. Dean’s heart began to beat in double-time as he immediately sensed the escalated tension. 

“Tell me.” He snapped, slamming his hand down on the table, demanding attention. 

John released a frustrated sigh as he stood to full height. “It’s not a normal zoo, Dean.” 

The younger man raised his eyebrows, prompting an explanation. 

“It’s a zoo for supernatural creatures.” 

Dean didn’t know what he expected to hear, but that wasn’t it. “Is it run by hunters?” He asked, because that was the only thing that would make sense – and yet, how had they not heard of it before if it was operated by people in their own community? 

“It could be – more likely it’s run by people who used to be hunters; but these guys don’t seem to have much interest in killing the supernatural anymore. They want to keep it and learn about it. Less hunters and more like researchers.” 

“That why they took Sam? So he can help them with their little project?” Dean guessed, Sam was the best researcher he knew, anything he didn’t already know about the supernatural he could learn in a heartbeat. The giant dork. 

Dean’s confidence in his assumptions vanished as he watched a dark shadow fall over his father’s expression.

“What is it?” He asked, his insides twisting as dread built up inside of him. 

“Sam isn’t being kept there to help them out…he’s- he’s an exhibit.”

Dean swallowed back the bile that rushed up the back of his throat as he was flooded with a sickening feeling. “What the fuck do you mean by _exhibit_?” Dean didn’t recognise his own voice, he had never heard that tone fall from his own mouth before. 

John grimaced. “This isn’t confirmed, but I got a call tonight from a hunter I’ve worked with a time or two, Garret Bennet, he heard about Sam – that we were looking for him, and said he might have some information, but wanted to speak in person. I met him a few towns over and he told me about this invite he’d received to a ‘creature research facility’ in the area. He hadn’t responded, but he’d asked around about it and it turned out a few hunters he knew had been invited and attended a ‘tour’ before and told him what it was about.” 

“Did they see Sam?” Dean questioned, furious that anyone he knew could have witnessed his brother being held captive and done fuck-all about it. 

John shook his head. “No, Garret hadn’t been in contact with anyone had gone there in the past year. Apparently, a few years ago when the zoo first formed it was a bigger deal in the hunting community, I guess after awhile news traveled that it wasn’t that interesting – he said the people who started it up don’t want to open it to the public because they know it’ll be either shut down or taken over by the government – become another Area 51 or some shit.”

More questions than he could count were bouncing around Dean’s head, but it all came back to his kid brother. “If they haven’t seen him, how do you know Sammy is there?”

“Garret said the email invite he received enticing him to go on the tour said something about a ‘new attraction’.”

Dean squinted his gaze, still not seeing any sort of evidence. 

“A new attraction described as a half-breed with psychic abilities and mental powers.” 

Dean scowled, “But Sam’s not—

“ **Of course** he’s not, but your bother does have psychic … capabilities, and he’s been missing, and this zoo is only a couple hours away.” John stated, his gaze bleary and desperate as he strung all the facts together. 

“But no one would know about Sam’s…that he can...we haven’t told anyone. Did you—

“You know that I didn’t.” The eldest Winchester growled darkly. 

“Then how else—

“I don’t know, Dean!” John shouted, slamming his fast into the wall next to him, splintering the plaster. “I don’t fucking know! I don’t know how they found out, or _if_ they found out. I don’t fucking know if Sam is there! I just know that it has been _months_ with _nothing_ and this might be something.” 

Dean was momentarily startled by the outburst. He had been the powder-keg since the kid went missing and while John had several unpleasant reactions of his own, none of them had been so volcanic. He realized that his dad was actually waiting for Dean to agree, which wasn’t the norm. When John Winchester had a plan he didn’t tend to ask or wait for confirmation that anyone else was onboard, he shouted orders and made demands, shoving people gracelessly into action. 

“Alright.” Dean said with a nod. He refused to hope too much, refused to allow himself to believe that they had finally found Sam, but his dad was right – there was a slim chance that this could be _something_. “When do we raid the joint?” 

John was shaking his head before Dean had even finished his question. 

“We don’t.” 

“What the fuck do you mean we don’t? If there’s even a chance that Sammy is there—

“We’ll get him out.” The elder Winchester proclaimed, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “But we can’t go in guns-blazing, not this time, not with hunters involved.” 

Dean practically growled, his instincts to protect his kid bringing out his more feral nature. 

“We’ve got to be smart about this. From what I’ve heard about this joint, it’s as secure as it gets. Electric fences, iron gates, around the clock security – the whole nine yards.” 

“So what’s the plan?” Dean asked, his impatience mounting as the idea that his little brother was being held in some fucking exhibit nested in his head. 

“I had Garret mention to a few of the contacts he knew were connected to this so-called ‘facility’ that he knew a hunter interested in their ‘research’ and wanting to set up a tour.” 

“Whose name did you give ‘em?” The younger man questioned, knowing that there was no way such a secure organization wouldn’t thoroughly vet any individual looking to gain access, but also realizing that as infamous as the Winchester name could be in the supernatural community – it would be too risky to use in a situation as sensitive as this. 

John smirked. “Bobby Singer. I checked with him – he’s asked around and while he doesn’t know who runs the place, it’s safe to say that he’s likely never come across them before, being the hermit he is.” 

Dean nodded. Bobby was a good choice. Known well enough in the hunting community that his name was familiar, but not so well that he could be picked out of a lineup. If anyone did come calling he’d back up their story, and if the individuals who ran the twisted fucking zoo did get a physical description of Singer, John’s appearance would be enough of a match to avoid raising any alarms. 

“I’m waiting for a response, Garret doesn’t think it will take long – the guys running the place have seemed rather eager to get hunters interested. Once we get in it will be a lot easier to search the place, find out if Sam’s there or not.” 

“And if he is?” Dean queried, knowing precisely what action he would take, but testing his father’s response. He in no way doubted John’s desire to have his youngest son back, but was wondering if the older man would attempt a more delicate approach; because making enemies in the hunting community would be as good as painting red targets on their backs. They’d go from being the hunters to the hunted in the matter of hours it would take for the gossip to circulate. In their line of work, killing a fellow hunter was equivalent to arranging your own execution. 

“We bring him home. Whatever it takes.” John declared, his words both a vow and a threat.

Dean nodded, satisfied with the response. 

For once in _months_ , the two Winchesters were on the same page.

Come hell or high water, they were bringing Sammy home. 

Fuck the consequences.

* * *

Note: What do ya'll think about the beginning? I'll try and get the next chapter up next week, hopefully. I'm still treading water right now, but I'm trying to get some writing done. Please leave a comment or review if you have a moment, it's the best encouragement! Thanks for reading! - Sam

If you really liked it feel free to buy me a [**coffee**](https://ko-fi.com/abcdefukoff) :)


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